


Motorin'

by Sunshinebunnie



Series: The Accidental Exhibitionists [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Betty likes to watch, Biting, F/M, Fangs is bisexual, Library Sex, Mentions of Voyeurism, Public Masturbation, Public Sex, Semi-Clothed Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Southside Boxing Gym, Southside Showcase, Strangers to Lovers, serpent Jughead, the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 22:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19049740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshinebunnie/pseuds/Sunshinebunnie
Summary: Jellybean Jones is away at college and needs her brother to bring her a textbook she forgot. Due to some unforeseen miscommunication, Jughead gets to the library where he's supposed to meet his sister only to find she's not there. Instead, he finds a feisty, sexy librarian in Betty Cooper, and sparks fly.





	Motorin'

**Author's Note:**

> First--thank you to each and every one of you for taking the time to read my story! I hope I've created something you enjoy reading as much as I've enjoyed writing it. As always, an extra special thank you goes out to all of you wonderful people who take the additional step of leaving me a comment/reblogging this story/leaving a kudos/or saving a bookmark! I cannot begin to tell you how much it means to me as an author to know you liked my work. 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗
> 
> Second--as usual, this is un-beta'd so any and all errors are my own!
> 
> Third--I does things on the Tumblr. Come find me in the stacks @sunshinebunnie. 😁😁😁😉😉😉

“Jug, when you get this, I need to you to check my room. I’ve looked everywhere and I think I left my Fluid Mechanics textbook on my desk when I came home this weekend. My asshole prof just assigned a fifteen question problem set due Friday and it’s worth twelve percent of my grade. _I need you to bring my book, bro! LIKE TODAY!_ ”

 

Fangs pushed a strand of hair behind his girlfriend’s ear as she tossed her phone tensely against her pillows. “Are you sure this is how you want to do this, JB?” he asked quietly.

 

“I don’t want to tell him _at all_ , Fangs,” she replied a little crossly. “It’s _my_ life. But since a bunch of my outside scholarships are dependent on me being an engineering major or woman in STEM, I figure he probably needs more of a heads up about me changing my major than ‘Hey bro! Tuition’s due next week and I’m about seven grand shy. Hook a girl up?’”

 

“If the issue is money…” Fangs started to say before the petite brunette abruptly cut him off with a dramatic eyeroll.

 

“My brother _has_ the money. The question is whether he’s going to be dick about it,” Jellybean said with a huff.

 

Her boyfriend looked at her quizzically while patiently waiting to see if she’d open up any more about what he’d gleaned was a complicated relationship with her brother. She absently picked at some pilling that was beginning to form on the worn comforter that her pragmatist brother had insisted she bring to the dorms rather than buying new bedding because “who else was going to be using it while she was at school?” Letting out a frustrated growl, she groused, “This whole mechanical engineering thing was _his_ idea from the start!”

 

Fangs just blinked owlishly at her recognizing the signs that she was about to emotion dump on him. JB pushed herself off her small futon and began furiously pacing the small patch of space between her dual purpose bed-couch and her non-descript rent-a-desk. Worrying at her loosened ponytail until the useless elastic fell on to the threadbare industrial carpet, she continued, “I like cars as much as anyone else, but he’s the true gearhead. Sure, he likes running the family garage, but I know he’s still bitter about having to give up going to college when our dad went to jail. It was always _his_ dream to work for Ford or Harley Davidson or something, and create the next big revolution in engine design or some shit.” Her boyfriend did his best to remain unphased by his girlfriend’s revelation that her dad was in jail, and evidently had been for quite some time.

 

Jellybean barrelled on. “He never even _asked_ if I wanted to design cars for a living. Jug just came up with this whole ‘plan’ and then decided _on his own_ that I was completely okay with it.” She let out a skin-prickling screech before she add harshly, “My brother’s such a dick, Fangs.”

 

The soft-spoken young man leaned forward a little until he was able to easily wrap his arms around his agitated girlfriend’s waist. “Maybe he’ll surprise you,” he suggested as he absently played with the waistband of her boyfriend jeans. She scoffed as she let him pull her further into his increasingly less innocent embrace. His lips grazed along the patch of skin exposed by the gap between the hem of her shirt and the top of her jeans. Goosebumps broke out on her skin as he lightly dragged his lips along her belly on his way to worrying open the button on her jeans with his teeth.

 

Tugging on his hair, she moaned, “Doubtful. Very doubtful.”

 

He nipped at her belly in response to a particularly sharp tug on his hair.

 

“What about us?” he asked, his voice muffled by her warm skin as his hands kneaded her denim-clad ass.

 

Blunt nails scraped along the nape of his neck as the young woman moaned appreciatively, “He’s probably going to hate you more than my new forensic anthropology major.”

 

Fangs chuckled as he slid the zipper of her pants down with his teeth. As he fingers deftly started to shimmy her pants off, he teased, “Oh really? Why’s that?”

 

She gave her boyfriend’s hair an especially sharp twist, earning a wanton groan from the man in front of her. Jellybean carded her fingers through his soft brown hair to soothe the sting from her pulling at his roots. As her fingers hypnotically rubbed his scalp, she said lightly, “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re the bisexual creative writing major fucking his baby sister?”

 

Jellybean let out a particularly loud moan as the deep timbre of his laughter vibrated straight to her pussy through the flimsy barrier of her hip-hugger panties.

 

                                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sweet Pea’s hand shot out to pluck the smart phone flying by his head out of the air moments before the device was about to hit the wall behind him. The young man tsked as he crossed the office to the empty desk tucked in the back corner. “You can’t keep chucking phones against the wall, Jones. I’m sick and tired of calling the phone company to make claims against our insurance policy.”

 

Jughead growled at his best friend and bookkeeper. It was a lecture he’d been hearing almost weekly since his sister turned sixteen.

 

“So what’d JB do this time?” the taller man asked, kicking his boots out under his desk.

 

The young Jones man ripped his beanie off and clawed at his hair. “Apparently she left a textbook back at the trailer this weekend.”

 

Sweet Pea raised his eyebrows in an unimpressed way. His best friend huffed, “She says she needs it today. Her professor dropped a surprise assignment on them. Says it’s worth a pretty big chunk of her grade.”

 

Booting up his desktop, he said casually, “She’s nineteen, Jug. You know you can always just let her figure this out on her own.” He sighed as he took in his best friend’s disbelieving look. Holding up his hands he added, “I’m just saying! It wouldn’t kill her to face some actual consequences once in a while.”

 

Jughead ran his hands through his hair again. Sweet Pea was right; he _knew_ he was right. Despite that, he found himself falling back on the same excuse he always gave. “It’s not her fault our parents are garbage. If I can protect her, give her a chance to be better than all of us, then I will.”

 

Shaking his head, Sweet Pea said emphatically, “Next semester, she’s getting digital textbooks.”

 

The Jones man recoiled in disgust. “They’re like forty percent more expensive than the print versions!”

 

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to cheap out on this, Jones. She’s _getting_ digital versions. Then she won’t have any excuses for not having them wherever she goes.” Jughead cringed. If anyone knew whether he could afford the more expensive books, it was his best friend. He hated that the taller man had not only called him out on it though, but that he’d made it seem like he’d been disadvantaging his sister by not agreeing to do it sooner.

 

                                   ######################################

 

When he’d become her guardian, he was seventeen and a promising high school junior, miraculously managing to stay in the honors track despite the ever-present turmoil in the Jones household. However, since he’d completed all his compulsory education, he’d immediately dropped out and went to work full time at the garage their dad helped start as a front for his gang, the Southside Serpents. Every red cent he could wring out went toward his sister. They stayed in their trailer park home because their parents had managed to pay off the lot through some creative accounting before their dad went to jail and their mom ran off. He’d lived off black coffee, cigarettes, and the occasional donut from the garage, so that JB never had to worry about food insecurity. So what if some days his hands shook so badly he could barely hold a pen, let alone a wrench, or that his pulse raced so fast he thought his heart was going to give out before he could even legally drink? Providing for JB was even the reason he agreed to become a full blood member of the Serpents. He’d known being a Serpent was stupid and dangerous, but every member got a small stipend cobbled together from all of the Serpents’ legal and illegal ventures--including the garage. If chopping cars or working protection details helped him earn enough money to keep the electricity running and the water turned on, then so be it.

 

It hadn’t been easy, but over the six years that it’d just been the two of them, Jughead’s near fanatical frugality had paid off. When JB’s high school counselor had started discussing his sister’s college potential, he felt comfortable with his ability to his ability to put her through a state school. Especially if it would help her pursue her passion for cars.

 

Ever since they could crawl, FP had them in the garage--playing with spanners, stacking lug nuts, counting spark plugs. Some of Jughead’s earliest memories of his sister were of their dad and some of the other Serpents at the garage placing them in hubcaps, then spinning them across the floor, taking bets on which Jones child would go further. Unsurprisingly, the men who bet on his sister tended to win.

 

When she was sixteen, JB had caught her brother off guard by asking if it was okay for her to hang out at the garage. He’d been admittedly leery of the idea at first, but then Sweet Pea pointed out that if she was there, she _wasn’t_ off in the back seat of some boy’s beat up junker. Jug had damn near insisted she spend every spare minute she had down at the garage where he could keep an eye on her. For the sake of his sanity, he chose to ignore the fact that nearly every mechanic--with Joaquin the lone exception--flocked to find projects to work on in his sister’s vicinity. More importantly, he forced himself to ignore the fact that his sister seemed to orbit Sweet Pea like an astral body. To this best friend’s credit though, Sweet Pea had rebuffed all her girlish charms, never letting her get any closer than three feet to him at any given time.

 

                                            #####################################

 

Jughead shook a cigarette out of his open pack, putting it behind his ear with a scowl when Sweet Pea said, “I will tell you the name of every guy JB slept with in high school if you light that up around me.” Although the hyper protective big brother in him wanted to mock, “What boys? She was always here,” the realist in him knew his best friend didn’t make idle threats.

 

“You’re a dick,” the increasingly agitated young man spat under his breath.

 

The taller young man laughed. “No, I _like_ mine. Which is why I never slept with your sister.” When Jug cut him an offended look, he added “And I knew you’d cut it off if you ever found out I fooled around with her! Jesus, Jones, when’s the last time _you_ got laid? You need to uncork.”

 

Grumbling something that sounded like “why don’t I fire you” under his breath, Jughead abruptly pushed himself up from his desk and stomped toward Sweet Pea’s desk to retrieve his phone. His friend pulled it away just before he wrapped his fingers around it. The move earned him a pointed glare. Unfazed by the familiar dark look, Sweet Pea said quietly, “Try not to be too harsh on her. Remember, in unity there is strength.”

 

Begrudgingly, Jughead echoed the sixth law. As the last word finished reverberating off his lips, Sweet Pea loosened his fingers enough for the glowering man to snatch back his phone.

 

                        ****************************************

“Betty, you don’t understand. I _need_ this!” Kevin begged, giving her over-exaggerated heart eyes.

 

The blonde woman ignored the young man stretched out on her bed as she turned her face from side to side, trying to decide which eye shadow/blush combo she liked better. Annoyed that his best friend was consciously tuning him out, he huffed before rolling to his side with a dramatic sigh. When she didn’t even so much as cut her eyes over to her bed through the mirror, Kevin finally decided he’d had enough.

With a decidedly conniving pout, he said casually, “I guess your mom will be able to stop wondering how that three-foot long dent got into the side of her car.” His voice drifted off meaningfully as Betty whipped around in her chair so quickly she got smacked in the face by the bouncy end of her ponytail.

 

“ _You wouldn’t_ ,” she whispered, eyes comically wide at his implied threat.

 

Kevin studied his nails for a minute before responding without a hint of shame, “If Moose Mason and his father’s credit card want to treat me to an all-expenses paid trip to New Orleans for the Tennessee Williams Festival, I will throw you under the bus in a heartbeat.”

 

Betty’s shock morphed into a cold glower. As much as she wanted to be happy for her friend and his newest relationship, she could admit it stung her pride something fierce to realize the clean cut brunette had already told Moose “yes” on the (correct) assumption that she would be free to cover his shift at the library. Turning back to her mirror, she ripped a make-up wipe out of its resealable packaging so viciously that the weird cotton-like material started to tear jaggedly in half. Cleaning off her make-up trial with determined swipes left her cheeks both bare of make-up and filled with a naturally rosy glow that her roommate Veronica was perpetually jealous of. Before she had a chance to regret her pettiness, Betty said a little sharply, “I hope you gain ten pounds while you’re there.”

 

The young man shot up from the bed so quickly from his shocked outrage at her unexpected shade that she couldn’t help but start laughing.

 

                                       *****************************************

In the four years Betty had her work study position at the library, she’d learned that Tuesday nights tended to be a decent shift during the semester. There were enough people around to need help that the time went quickly, but not so many that she didn’t have time to do her own work.

 

At least, that had been the case. Having learned early on to avoid the de facto campus bar, The Hoedown, Betty didn’t keep tabs on its nightly drink specials. It wasn’t until she was an hour into her five hour shift  and she’d only helped one especially miserable-looking Freshman that she remarked on the uncharacteristically slow shift to her co-worker Trevor. Without even looking up from the comic he was drawing, he replied absently, “Yeah, it’s been pretty slow like this since The Hoedown started its Twofer-Tuesday-BOHO special.” The blonde stared at him in confusion for a while before his obliviousness forced her to ask, “What’s that now?”

 

Trevor gave her a practically sleepy once-over that left her feeling mildly embarrassed that she was _so_ out of touch with what appeared to be common campus knowledge. Eventually, the Sophomore said genially, “Some bar-rescue type guy revamped their specials to make it less reliant on Fridays and Saturdays to carry the bar. One of the recommendations they implemented was for one dollar PBRs and fifty cent well shots on Tuesdays.” Betty blinked slowly in disbelief for a few seconds before she let out a half shocked half disapproving, “Oh…”

 

Her eyes shifted over to the library’s restocking carts. It had been a while since she’d spent a shift in the stacks reshelving books. As a Freshman, the quiet stillness of being in the stacks with her cart and her books brought her a much appreciated sense of calm. If she also happened upon a couple from time to time doing things that got her wet enough to warrant spying on them, well, that was her own business.

 

If it hadn’t been for an exchange student named Malachai trying to corner her in the stacks one night, she probably wouldn’t have stopped. He’d caught her watching him getting an awe-inspiring blow job from a girl Betty wasn’t entirely convinced was actually a student at the university. She knew he knew she’d been watching when he’d tried penning her in along one of the special collection rows before attempting to caress her face with the flat of his hand. Up close, she’d been able to tell that he hadn’t washed his hair in days, and she could smell what reminded her of rancid oil and garlic bleeding out of his pores. Her fight-or-flight response kicked in as she’d nearly sprinted all the way back to the service elevators with her still almost full book cart.

 

Shortly thereafter, she’d taken over as the work-study student supervisor. She _only_ assigned guys to do the reshelving after that.

 

                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He’d ridden around the side streets surrounding the library five times before reluctantly pulling into the campus parking. JB had warned him before that the University’s parking enforcement was overzealous--a means of “encouraging” students living on campus to pay the additional $1,500.00 a semester to park closer to their dorms and classes hassle-free.

 

On his last pass down the street behind the library, Jughead saw an ideal parking spot for his bike. He’d begun initiating his lane change to claim it when he started to take greater stock of his surroundings. It took little more than a second, but he suddenly realized why such a prime spot had been passed over by four of the cars ahead of him: the spot was directly next to a bar. He wasn’t fundamentally opposed to parking his Harley outside bars. God knows, he’d certainly done it frequently enough at the Whyte Wyrm back in Riverdale. No, the difference was that the Wyrm was (mostly) patronized by adults, whereas he swore he’d eat his boots if any of the “sorority” girls traipsing in and out of this bar were a day over eighteen. He gripped the clutch on his bike a little tighter and rode passed the spot.

 

Wheeling his bike into a designated motorcycle parking spot, Jughead flipped down his kickstand before twisting around to grab his sister’s textbook out of his worn saddlebag. His fingers lingered over a spot that looked like it was on the verge of cracking and made a mental note to rub down all his leather with linseed oil when he got home. He pulled out his phone to double check JB’s last text. ‘Meet me at Griffin Library, 4th Floor at 4. My study group goes until 5:30.’

 

Jug strode purposefully across the expansive quad toward the somewhat dingy-looking limestone building with three foot high letters etched in its facade proclaiming “GRIFFIN LIBRARY.” Between his sister’s bedroom looking like a toxic waste dump making it nearly impossible to find the damn book and hitting an unavoidable back-up on the highway, he was cutting it _much_ closer to the four o’clock meet time than he’d anticipated. He increased his pace causing the metal rings on his motorcycle boots to jingle-jangle like a dangling set of keys.

 

Despite his best efforts, he still didn’t make it over to the library until about ten after four. For a moment, he debated texting his sister back to get her to come out and retrieve her missing textbook. In the end, he decided against it, figuring that a conscientious student like her probably turned her phone off like the library rules expressly dictated on the building’s exterior.

 

As the pneumatic doors slowly closed behind him, Jughead immediately noticed the almost antiseptic smell to the library’s interior. The smell was a visceral reminder of several of FP’s failed attempts at rehab, rather than calling back to the familiar security blanket of the musty book smells he would forever associate with halcyon days spent holed up in the small, but well-stocked true crime section of the Riverdale Public Library. He winced a little when he thought about how long it’d been since he last had time to actually sit and read a book. Before he was forced to grow-up too soon, he could easily devour three or four books a week for pleasure.

 

Because his thoughts were elsewhere, Jug didn’t register the turnstile until he abruptly came to a halt and a stinging ache rapidly shot up the upper part of his thigh. Gingerly rubbing the tender spot on his leg, he tentatively tried to push passed the turnstile again. It stubbornly remained unmoving. Just as he was contemplating how obvious it would be if he just hopped the crowd control device, a partially distracted voice asked, “Forgot your ID?”

 

Jughead turned his head to find the source of the voice, and mutely nodded at the earnest looking young man behind the circulation desk. A second later, he heard a quiet buzz as the same young brown-haired man waved him through the handicap gate. As he started walking through, the voice said in a slightly less distracted tone, “Yeah, these new swipe-stiles have been screwing up everyone. Just try to remember next time, ‘k? Not everybody who works the desk is as cool about buzzing people in as I am.”

 

Taking that as his cue that he’d somehow earned a favor deserving of recognition, Jughead half-raised his arm carrying JB’s textbook in it, and gave the kid a gruff “Thanks, man” in return.

 

Once he got passed the circulation desk-cum-guard tower, he subtly scanned the first floor looking for either the elevators or the stairs--some way of getting up to the fourth floor. It certainly wouldn’t do him any favors to make it any more obvious that he wasn’t a student. On his second visual pass of the lobby, he spied the familiar indicator lights of an elevator bank. He forced himself to saunter over, all the while cursing his sister under his breath for forgetting the book and Sweet Pea for being right about how much better off they’d both be right now if he’d only sprung for the damn digital copies.

 

There was one good thing about his measured pacing: his timing managed to perfectly coincide with an elevator discharging what looked to be a group of overly stressed out law school students, if their books were anything to go off. Stepping into the eerily quiet steel box, he felt his pulse almost immediately begin to quicken. Something about the surprising harshness of the fluorescent lighting in the elevator was giving him flashbacks to his brief stint in Juvie when he was twelve. Closing his eyes, he breathed out harshly through his nose. ‘Definitely taking the stairs on the way down,’ he thought sourly.

 

The elevator doors opened both quicker than he was expecting and not quickly enough as Jughead nearly jumped through the doors at the first sign of the fourth floor lobby. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he checked JB’s directions again. Rereading her message, he scowled. ‘4th Floor at 4’ didn’t exactly give him much to go on. Tapping his boot impatiently, he glanced at the time again: he was already twenty minutes late, so it was hardly fair of him to expect her to still be waiting around at the elevators for him. Huffing out an exasperated breath, he decided to take a chance and fired off a quick ‘I’m on the 4th floor. Where are you?’ to his sister. As annoyed as he was that he was going to have to hunt her down in the library, an equally large part of him was happy when she still hadn’t responded five minutes later--it meant she was actually taking her studying seriously.

 

Glancing from side to side, neither of the two wings he saw looked any more promising than the other. To his right was a brightly lit hallway entrance with five inch high brushed metal lettering over the lintel proclaiming it to be the “John and Amelia DiNardo Classical Studies Wing.” Turning his head to the left, he found a nearly identical sight except the lettering above the door proclaimed it to be “The Vega Institute of Meso-American Culture.” The longer he stood around trying to figure out where his sister could be, the more agitated he got.

 

Just as he was about to try calling her--library rules be damned--he heard the unmistakable whingy creak of ball joints in desperate need of oil. Turning on his heel, he strode off purposefully in the direction of the Classical Studies wing. Given the tomb-like quality pervading the fourth floor, Jug couldn’t imagine someone working up there wouldn’t have noticed a group of students all studying together.

 

                                    *********************************************

 

Betty _hated_ the stupid distribution carts. Rather, she hated the fact that no one bothered to stay on top of their upkeep. She grumbled as she shoved her shoulder against the locked-up cart once again, hoping to jar the locked up wheel free through sheer force of will. Not for the first time since she’d been up there was she glad there was no one else around to see her. If anyone she recognized saw her with her ass popped up in the air as she pushed against the cart, she knew she’d just about die.

 

Right as she finally felt the heavy cart laden down with books beginning to budge, a smug voice behind her said, “A can of WD-40 would fix that a lot faster.” Betty instinctively turned her head toward the voice to thank the speaker for the not-at-all helpful comment. Unfortunately, as she did so, the shift in her body weight combined with the cart already being on three wheels caused the entire thing to overturn leaving the poor blonde sprawled awkwardly on top of it.

 

“Ow!” she yelped as she came down hard on the cart’s metal shelving. At the same time, Betty heard a very distinctive “Oh shit!” Gingerly rubbing her ass, she took a minute to assess the severity of her injuries, shooting a glare in the general direction of the distinctly male voice. Opening her mouth again preparing to lambast the jerk who distracted her, her mouth suddenly went dry. Standing in front of her with a worried look etched on his face was the hottest man she had ever seen. His dark jeans were molded to his legs in that perfect way where she could easily admire his ass, but without giving the impression he was wearing hipster skinny jeans. A dark grey t-shirt seemed to cling to the flat planes of his torso. What really did her in though was the obviously well-loved black leather jacket he wore like a second skin.

 

She turned her head a little further to the side and caught the briefest glimpse of a patch on the jacket that _definitely_ did not give off a mass-produced-Hot-Topic vibe. Suddenly her best friend Kevin’s voice popped in her head as her unforeseen thirst had her thinking ‘Now _that_ is the definition of _a snack_!’

 

                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jughead’s eyes darted around landing everywhere except on the young blonde woman splayed out in front of him. He hadn’t meant to startle her--truly. When he finally found the source of the squeaking he’d spoken up on autopilot: his brain barely had a chance to completely process the way the woman’s jean skirt was pulled tight over her ass as she pushed herself against the stuck cart. For a second as she fell over, he caught the briefest hint of deep emerald green under her skirt and started to feel his jeans get a little bit tighter as he rapidly got the undeniable urge to see what she’d look like _without_ the skirt on.

 

He toyed with his beanie to give himself something to do other than stare awkwardly at the woman who was trying to extricate herself from the toppled cart in what he was certain she thought of as a “dignified” manner. His eyes drifted down to her stark white Keds. At least her tennis shoes would’ve been brilliant white if not for the slowly seeping bead of blood he saw soaking into the piping around her delicate ankle. After years of caring for Jellybean, his protective instincts kicked in subconsciously. Using his deceptively quick reflexes, he hauled her upright, earning a slightly muffled “oof!” as she fell against the hard planes of his chest.

 

The abruptness of his action caused her fight-or-flight response to temporarily kick in as she frantically scraped her hands over his chest while she squirmed in his embrace. He moaned involuntarily as he felt the blunted drag of her nails through the cotton barrier of his shirt. The squirming stopped at almost the same moment that Jughead released his grip on the girl in an embarrassed panic. There was another, slightly quieter “oof” as the poor young woman fell against the overturned cart again.

 

Betty slowly pushed herself up to her elbows and glared menacingly at the surprisingly upset man. To his credit, Jughead began wildly gesticulating with the textbook he was carrying as he rushed to say, “Oh my God! Are you ok? I didn’t mean for that to happen. You’re bleeding...and I have a sister...and I guess it was just instinct? You know? After all the skinned knees? I guess I just got used to scooping her up at the first sign of blood. I’m weird. That’s what my sister tells me anyway. I’m a weirdo.”

 

There was something about the absurdity of the situation that lead the injured blonde in front of him to start laughing--hysterically. He stood propped up against some shelves, unsure of what to do. Every time she seemed on the verge of sobering up, she’d pass a look down the length of his body and burst into body-racking laughter again.

 

                                     ****************************************

 

It could’ve been the burning sting along her calf, or the leather-clad guy’s surprisingly verbose explanation, or the fact that she was sure she’d flashed him at least once, or some combination of the three, but every time she looked at him, she couldn’t get passed what a ridiculous situation they were in. By her third failed attempt at sobering up, she could tell he was getting annoyed, if the grim set of his mouth was anything to go by. Unfortunately, thinking about his dour look got her thinking about the warm timbre of his voice when he’d moaned for her, which in turn got her thinking of all the couples she’d unintentionally stumbled on in the stacks before, which set off her laughing fit again.

 

Betty finally managed to stop laughing when she happened to look up and noticed the leather-wearing man was walking away through the stacks. With a bit of an indignant yelp, she hissed down the row as loudly as she dared, “Where are you going?”

 

The young man briefly stopped in his tracks and pinned her with a surprisingly disdainful smirk as he tauntingly waved the textbook in her direction. “Unlike _you_ ,” he sniped, “I don’t have time to screw around all day. I have a study group to meet up with.”

 

Pushing herself up from her crash zone, she favored her uninjured leg as she stood and gave the inky haired young man an arch look. After taking a minute to judge the sincerity of his statement, she replied, “Not up here you aren’t.” Keeping her eyes trained on his, she saw about half a dozen microexpressions race across his face ranging from doubt to something bordering on crazed hostility. His emotional scatter-shot caught her a little off guard. As he intensely studied her face, the grim set of his mouth only deepened, until she eventually sputtered, “Before _this_ ,” gesturing vaguely behind her, “I did a full loop of the floor looking for books that needed to be reshelved. There’s no one up here.”

 

The weight of his disapproving scowl was nearly tangible. With a dismissive shake of his head, the man snarled, “That can’t be right.”

 

Betty gave him a droll look in return as she said dryly, “Well, you’re certainly welcome to look.”

 

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He walked off without a backward glance, although not before catching the blonde hissing “Unbelievable” only partially under her breath. Even though he had no reason _not_ to believe the young woman, the larger part of him couldn’t fathom why Jellybean would drag him two hours over to her college, only to lie to him about her study group once he got here. Adjusting his beanie as he made his way down the aisle, he strode off with grim determination to find his sister.

 

After twenty minutes of stalking around the deceptively large fourth floor, Jug was beginning to suspect his sister ghosted him. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more about it: the fact that he’d wasted so much time on a fool’s errand, or the fact that JB felt the need to tell him such an elaborate lie. Once he got back to Riverdale, he imagined he could be more charitably disposed toward JB’s motives whatever they might be (after a suitable amount of bitching to Sweet Pea, that is), but until then, his anger over his immediate inconvenience seemed to be prevailing.

 

His head was buried in his phone, his attention wholly occupied by the blistering text message he was composing to JB when he heard a familiar voice say a little smugly, “Find your friends?” Whether it was her tone or her words that set his teeth on edge, he wasn’t entirely sure. As he stopped short of accidentally crushing her fingers under his boots though, he could admit to himself that under different circumstances--if they’d met at the Whyte Wyrm, perhaps--he’d probably leap at the chance to buy her a drink. Sweeping his eyes over her, he was impressed to see that she’d somehow managed to right the book cart by herself. If the rather large pile of scattered books she was still kneeling amongst though was any indication, standing the cart back up must’ve taken more effort than she’d anticipated. A twinge of regret suddenly lanced through him.

 

Over the years he’d certainly worked his share of thankless jobs--usually in an effort to keep them all from being evicted when Gladys and FP were too fucked up to handle shit. If the young woman was anything like him, even dealing with one asshole at work could wind up setting the tone for his entire week. Without a word, Jughead knelt on the floor near the blonde and started stacking up the scattered books to be easily within her reach. He half figured she was organizing them by the Dewey decimal system or some Library of Congress nonsense before putting the books back on the cart, so he resisted the urge to just pile all the loose books on the cart in the name of expediency.

 

After several minutes of silent book stacking, he stopped and gave her a wolfish grin. He laughed as she instantly slammed her mouth shut in an effort to cover-up her guppy-like look of surprise. Even though she didn’t say a word to him, he could still feel the tangible weight of her gaze as she thoroughly considered him in silent contemplation. The longer her clear green eyes lingered on him, the more he had to tamp down the urge to fill the growing silence.

 

Looking back, Jug could count on one hand the number of useful things FP taught him. One of them though was not to be afraid of silence. Jughead heard his father’s words in his head as clearly as the day he’d first heard them: “Boy, only fools need to talk constantly. A serpent in the grass lies _quietly_ in wait for its prey.”

 

The ability to simply _exist_ in silence had served him well over the years. (After he’d learned the hard way to follow his dad’s _other_ memorable piece of advice--“don’t pick fights you won’t win.”)

 

                              *********************************************

 

Betty couldn’t deny that she appreciated not having to crawl all over the floor to collect all of the scatter shot books from the upturned cart. She was even grateful that the biker seemed to realize she had a method to how she was organizing them. The thing that was driving her nuts was his smug muteness. It was clear to her that he’d caught her staring at him, but instead of the “What?” or the introduction she was expecting from him she got a sardonic smirk instead. The unusualness of her complaint did not fail to escape her. They _were_ in a library after all. An expectation of silence was something of a given. There was something different about _his_ silence though. She didn’t for a second believe he was doing it out of respect for their surroundings. No, there was an anxious expectancy to it, almost like he was waiting until the tension of the bow string between them caused one of them to snap.

 

She couldn’t say how long they worked in oppressive silence, but it was long enough for her to let out a startled squeak when the rough pads of his fingers deliberately brushed against hers while handing over the last book for the cart. Instinctively, her eyes dropped to the book now glueing them together. A heated blush seeped across her face as she read the title: _The Bedroom Philosophers_. Her eyes shot to his face only to find a canary-eating grin playing at the edges of his mouth. Before she had the good sense to stop herself, Betty heard her voice blurt out, “Have you read it?”

 

For the briefest of seconds, she thought she caught a knowing glint in his eyes at her question, and yet, he remained almost maddeningly mute. The dam of silence having been breached on her side, Betty found herself unable to keep from rambling. “It’s a pretty damning social commentary on the 18th century French Estate system. I mean, really, pretty revolutionary stuff. Speaking out against the oppression of the monarchy and the clergy. If de Sade hadn’t already voluntarily committed himself to an insane asylum, he probably would’ve been executed.”

 

She swallowed thickly, her eyes nervously skittering across his face, as she caught an undeniably carnal look bleeding into his expression. Her heart started jackhammering against her ribs as he leaned infinitesimally closer to her and said in a gravelly timbre that had her clenching her thighs together, “I’m sure a good girl like you just skipped right over all the porn in it.”

 

Betty found herself magnetised by the deliberate way he licked his lips as he said “good girl,” her nipples becoming impossibly taut beneath her grey sweater with its large golden crown.

 

                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jughead had no clue what came over him. He was supposed to be looking for his sister, and instead, he found himself using a play by perhaps one of the kinkiest people in history as a pick up tool. The whole thing felt surreal.

 

                               ################################################

 

He’d first come across the book when he was sixteen. One of the older Serpents, a woman named Penny Peabody, had given it to him along with a box of condoms for his birthday with a card that said “Happy hunting.” At the time, he hadn’t understood the nexus between the book and the condoms--having been forced to set aside his pleasure reading for several weeks when Gladys had gone on one of her “walkabouts” and his dad had gone on an especially epic drinking binge. When he had finally gotten around to reading it, his brain just about melted. Up until that point, sex hadn’t been much of a priority for him, falling much further down his list of needs behind things like “maintaining stable housing” and “dealing with food insecurity.”

 

Without having much of a point of reference for the sexual descriptions in the book, he’d done what he’d imagined any young man would’ve in that situation--he’d turned to his best friend.

 

Sweet Pea had stared blankly at him when he’d awkwardly tried to describe the book. He’d finally gotten so frustrated that he’d yelled, “I don’t know why I thought _you_ could explain to me what’s so fun about getting hit during sex!” The taller boy had immediately broken out in a face-splitting grin.

 

“ _That’s_ what you’ve been on about, Jones?” Sweet Pea had said glibly.

 

Jughead merely sulked in response.

 

Unperturbed by his best friend’s abrupt bout of sullenness, he’d gone back to his room and grabbed his laptop. By the time Sweet Pea finished walking Jughead through his curated list of favorite porn sites, the young Jones man had a _much_ greater appreciation for why people found kinky sex so hot.

 

                                   ############################################

 

He knew she’d read it the minute her cheeks started to pinken. It was an unexpected revelation to be sure. As he’d studied her silently while she rambled, he couldn’t decide if BDSM was her thing. Everything about her screamed “wholesomeness”--from her pristine tennis shoes and her knee-length denim skirt to her barely-there make-up and her comically perky ponytail. ‘On the other hand,’ he found himself thinking, ‘that emerald green underwear she was wearing was decidedly _not_ wholesome,’ based on what little he’d glimpsed of it.

 

He decided to send up a flare to test the waters.

 

There was no mistaking the way her lust-blown pupils suddenly obscured the rest of her green irises, nor the way her mouth gently fell open with a quiet sigh. The earlier remnants of his burgeoning hard-on returned in full force as he imagined what it would be like to just fuck the sexy blonde in front of him right there in the library. She looked like she’d be a _good girl_ indeed.

 

Jughead loomed a little more over her, until he was close enough to hear the slight hitch to her breathing. In a deliberately calm voice he mused, “I wonder how often people think about having sex in a library.” His voice trailed off in a calculated way, like he was embarrassed for having even mentioned it.

 

It was his turn to be surprised as the young woman looked up at him under hooded eyes and purred, “A lot of people _do more_ than just _think_ about having sex here.” Deftly covering up his shock at her lurid implication, he casually raised one eyebrow and gave her the best disbelieving look he’d spent years honing on JB.

 

                             **************************************************

 

Betty wasn’t sure what rogue spirit possessed her to make such a suggestive comment. Especially not to a stranger. Especially not to an incredibly hot stranger with burning blue eyes and lips like sin. In the back of her mind, she heard a voice suspiciously like Kevin’s saying, ‘ _It won’t kill you to unlock your box occasionally, Betty._ ’ She suppressed the urge to grimace at her subconsciousness’ lewdness.

 

Locking eyes with the intense young man again, the young Cooper woman tried to draw in a calming breath through her nose. She immediately regretted her decision as she found herself inhaling a heady scent of orange peel, clove, and wood smoke. Betty bit her lip, earning an electrifying growl from the man before her. Emboldened by the sound, she turned the full force of her gaze on him to find him staring at her lips with a startlingly voracious hunger.

 

The longer she looked at him, the more powerful the magnetic pull between them seemed to get. At least, that’s what Betty told herself was the reason for what she heard coming out of her mouth next. “I’ve probably caught at least fifteen couples having sex here over the years.” Somehow, the intensity of his gaze burned even hotter at her admission--so much so that she was amazed that her skin hadn’t spontaneously burst into flames. The lust rolling off him in waves was on the verge of smothering her as he asked almost mockingly, “Did that _scandalize_ the _good_ little librarian?” Even though she bristled intellectually at his derisive words, Betty couldn’t deny the effect they had on her on a much _baser_ level--her pussy fluttering like butterfly wings as his velvety voice dropped lower again when he said the word “good.”

 

Betty found the rebellious streak that her mother spent years unsuccessfully trying to stamp out flare to life. Cocking her eyebrow in near perfect impish mimicry of his own disbelieving look, she coolly replied, “Hardly. I usually watched.”

 

                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

There were a thousand different things that could’ve come out of her mouth that would’ve shocked him less than what he actually heard--that she was royalty, for instance, or some kind of mythical creature. The more Jughead thought about it, the more convinced he became that this blonde goddess _was_ a mythical creature. If his high school self had sought to create the ideal woman, he easily could’ve seen himself conjuring up a Hitchcock blonde who was outwardly a vision of purest innocence but whose body begged for sin much like the woman in front of him. For a brief moment, he floundered.

 

Despite his suggestive quips, he was hardly a ladies’ man the way Sweet Pea, or even his dad, was. Sure, he’d slept with a handful of women, but they were usually one-and-dones after Serpent celebrations when he’d had a few more to drink than he knew he should have. Although he’d known in his heart that his sister had probably had sex at some point, there was still something in him that screamed at him not to expose her to that, that she was too young. It was an unshakeable feeling, and an effective deterrent to him bringing women home to their shared trailer. At least that was the rationale he chose to fall back on as to why he usually only had drunk sex--he needed to lower his _own_ inhibitions enough to where he didn’t care about having sex in a bathroom at the Wyrm, or behind another trailer at Sunnyside Trailer Park, or under the bleachers at the Twilight Drive-In.

 

His cock throbbed as he watched the sultry blonde slowly lick her bottom lip before drawing it between her teeth and looking up at him under heavy eyelids. In that moment, Jughead realized he was openly lusting after this feisty flaxen-haired angel and he didn’t even know her name. As he purposefully dragged his eyes away from her temptingly plump lips, he tried to channel his inner Sweet Pea.

 

“So, tell me, do sexy, voyeuristic librarians have names?”

 

                                *********************************************

 

There was a burr to his voice that caused goosebumps to erupt across her skin. Her breath caught in her throat as she momentarily closed her eyes and took a minute to savor the jittery electric feeling coursing through her body. As she basked in the dark desires the man in front of her was inspiring within her, a small voice in the back of her mind tried whispering why what she was contemplating was a _bad_ idea--he was a stranger (and a potentially dangerous one at that), it was reckless, they were practically in public, she was technically at work. Betty quashed her doubts in the space of a heartbeat before she had a chance to chicken out. Sure, he looked intimidating with his obviously well-loved leather jacket and his Elvis-inspired lip curl, but he’d been looking for a study group and was familiar with 18th century literature (porn, yes, but hardly the type she’d expect some _truly_ dangerous biker to be aware of). And reckless? It was hard for her to imagine how hooking up with him was any more reckless than Kevin hitting up Grindr, or any of the times she’d let Veronica drag her out on a bar-hopping manhunt. As for being in public, Betty couldn’t deny that that fact was actually contributing to the increasing heat radiating between her thighs. All the times she’d surreptitiously caught those other couples having sex, she’d fought the urge to touch herself until she got home--imagining what it would be like to be so consumed with raw sexual _need_ that she wouldn’t care if anyone saw her getting railed into oblivion. Besides, like she’d told him earlier, it wasn’t like there was anyone else up on the fourth floor with them anyway. The chances of someone _actually_ catching them having sex were damn near non-existent. As for being at work, that much was true; however, she was only working this particular shift as a favor to Kevin, and she was going to graduate in a couple months anyway. It wasn’t like she was going to be using her part-time work study position to help secure a job after graduation: she already knew she was going to be joining the family business.

 

Her eyes zeroed in on his, and for a fleeting second she found herself unmoored by the stark lust that had turned his dark blue eyes nearly black from his blown-out pupils. When she finally spoke, her voice danced along the edge of being a whisper and a sigh as she said, “My friends call me Betty.”

 

                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Betty. He rolled the word over in his mind. It suited her--a classic name for a classic beauty. Leaning into her, he could smell the faintest hint of strawberry wafting off her like a scent-memory scraping at the edges of his consciousness. His mouth began to water, and his mind began to wander as he imagined whether her skin carried that same teasingly sweet strawberry taste, or whether her pussy would be as red and juicy as a perfectly ripe summer strawberry. When he felt the tip of his nose brush the top of her ear, he breathed out, “ _Can I be your friend, Betty?_ ”

 

The full body shiver that ran through her at his words made him want to crow, but he contented himself with capturing her lips in a deep kiss instead once he registered her languidly nodding her head in assent to his offer of friendship.

 

Jughead’s brain short-circuited as his lips teasingly caressed the silken skin of her mouth, his tongue darting between her open lips and dancing eagerly with her own. She moaned into his mouth as her hands sought purchase on his body, flittering over his shoulders, down to his waist, under his jacket, until he eventually felt the blunt tips of her fingers digging into his ass as she pulled him closer against her core. The reverberation of her wanton cries of pleasure against his skin made his cock swell more than he thought was even possible. Like her, his hands roamed the planes of her body searching for someplace to anchor himself. When he tugged experimentally on her ponytail, she bit his lower lip in response and he almost thought he was going to cum right there without ever getting the chance to get inside her. His left hand eventually made its way to her thigh, and he lifted her injured leg over his hip so that he could grind himself harder against the inferno of her pussy.

 

He backed her up until she hit the row of wooden bookshelves behind her, greedily swallowing the small noise of temporary discomfort that escaped her lips. Moving his hungry lips to the pale, unblemished column of her neck, he breathed his name against her skin like a prayer of supplication. As she craned her neck away from him to give him better access to her skin, he caught the tiny sound of confusion that slipped out of her mouth. For a split second, he thought about not repeating his name for her, but his desire to hear her whimpering it as he brought to the edge of orgasm over and over again before allowing her to plunge head-first into freefall won out over any impish stunt he could’ve pulled by withholding his name.

 

                             ***********************************************

 

She had molten lava flowing through every inch of her skin, every nerve in her body as Jughead (‘Jughead?’) ravenously teased her with his lips and his teeth and his hands. The worst part though was the deliberate torment his hips were subjecting her to as he ground and thrust his pelvis against hers in an uneven rhythm that only seemed to apply the pressure she was craving against her aroused clit on every third or fourth pass. Betty keened “Jughead!” as loudly as she dared, both unable and unwilling to hide her frustration over needing _more_.

 

He chuckled darkly against her skin causing her pussy to contract sharply in anticipation. As his teeth began worrying her earlobe, her desperate hands scrambled under the hem of his t-shirt as she dragged her nails along his kidneys. Jughead released her earlobe only to begin murmuring directly into her sensitized ear, “Hmmmm? Was there something you _needed_ , Betty?”

 

Betty simply let out a plaintive whine in response.

 

Jughead’s right hand moved to her breast where he began to roughly knead her supple flesh through her soft sweater, all the while continuing to tease her with the filth coming out of his mouth.

 

“ _God_ , I love the way you writhe against me. _Such a good girl_ . I can already imagine what it’s gonna look like to watch you bounce up and down on my cock. Are you getting nice and wet for me, Betty? _I bet you are._ ”

 

A small whimper escaped her lips as she clutched even harder at the warm skin of his back. Mustering up a pool of resolve she was mildly surprised she had, Betty found herself panting out, “You have no idea how wet you’re making me right now, Jughead. See for yourself.”

 

The hand wrapped around her thigh slowly uncurled itself as Jughead inched his fingertips toward the siren call of the damp heat emanating from her aching core. She held her breath as the rough pads of his fingers traced lightly along the lace edging on the satin strip barely covering her pussy. When he made no move to slip underneath the flimsy barrier, she choked out, “ _Please_ , Jughead. I need to feel you.”

 

                                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The breathy neediness in her voice undid his resolve not to rush things as he easily slid his slim fingers beneath the damp scrap of fabric between her legs. He delicately rubbed the outer lips of her perfectly waxed cunt, grinning possessively as she shivered in his arms. Teasingly, he coated his fingertips with the honeyed arousal dripping from her pussy before slipping two fingers inside her tight channel without any resistance.

 

His cock vibrated as her cunt clenched down tightly on his fingers, and he immediately envisioned what it would feel like to have her squeezing his dick.

 

Jughead gave a frustrated growl as his efforts to pump his fingers in and out of her cunt were constrained by her underwear pressing against the back of his hand. He yanked his hand free of her pussy, tearing the thin satin fabric of her underwear in the process.

 

“Those were _new_ ,” he heard Betty plaintively wail as he roughly removed the useless fabric from her body.

 

“ _They were in the way_ ,” he responded with an animalistic grunt as he abruptly shoved his fingers back inside her needy cunt.

 

The force of his actions caused Betty to rise up on her tiptoes for a second as her body readjusted to the feeling on being impaled on his tantalizingly long digits. He groaned as he soon felt the sharp sting of her teeth biting down where his neck met his collarbone, and he involuntarily crooked his fingers sharply against the front wall of her pussy. As the tips of his fingers made contact with a small spongey patch inside her cunt, he began pressing rhythmically against it causing her hips to begin desperately riding his hand as her body sought out _more_.

 

“That’s right, Betty,” he crooned. “Ride my fingers. Show me how badly you want to cum.”

 

His fingers kept up their unrelenting rhythm, slowly building up a straining pressure that made her feel like she was about to burst like overripe fruit. It wasn’t _enough_ to push her over the edge though. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and closed her eyes as she concentrated all her willpower on falling into the teasing maw of oblivion.

 

Jughead watched in silence for several minutes as Betty’s face contorted in near singular focus while she chased after her elusive orgasm. Eventually, he took pity on her frustrated mewls. “I got you, baby,” he whispered into her hairline just as he started expertly rubbing her engorged clit with his thumb. He’d managed to keep Betty on such a knife’s edge that it took less than a minute of stimulating her clit before her body started trembling.

 

Watching Betty’s orgasm unfold fascinated Jughead. As his thumb applied more pressure to her slippery nub, her wispy voice took on a yippy staccato chorus of “ _ah_ ,” “ _Jug_ ,” “ _oh God_ ,” and “ _just like that_ ” that fueled his ego in a way he could barely imagine. The furrows of concentration that had been creasing her forehead smoothed out a nanosecond before her body seized up like a board, then started twitching uncontrollably. Her nails left a dull sting in his skin as she scored his back while spasmodically clutching onto him in an attempt to keep her body anchored to this plane of existence. What truly left in in awe though was the strength with which her cunt clamped down on his fingers--if he’d been more of an alarmist, he felt certain that he would’ve thought she was going to break his fingers (or at a minimum, dislocate his knuckles) as she bore down on his hand tighter than any vise.

 

The Jones man gently rested his forehead against hers as she continued to ride out the mini aftershocks of her orgasm against his hand.

 

                                       *****************************************

 

Betty’s body quivered like jello as dark spots continued to hover in her field of vision like sunspots. Never in her life had she experienced such a powerful orgasm. The one tiny corner of her brain that wasn’t marinating in post-orgasmic endorphins vaguely registered Jughead murmuring something that sounded like “ _Wow_ ” and “ _That was amazing, Betty_ ” into the crown of her head. All she was able to manage to reply in return was a garbled “Hmmhmngh.” She doubted that her inarticulateness was an issue for him though as the warm rumble of his suppressed laughter radiated through her chest.

 

The fact that she hadn’t crumpled to the ground yet under the post-orgasmic dead weight of her body more than impressed Betty as she slowly blinked at the sex god before her through heavy eyelids. It wasn’t until she hazily processed the fact that he was sucking her shimmering arousal off of his elongated fingers that she realized he had extricated his miracle-working hand from between her legs. The sheer debauchery of it made her whimper with renewed need.

 

With a boldness that surprised her, she found her hands scrabbling to open his jeans as she said heatedly, “I need to feel your cock inside me. _Now_.”

 

Getting his jeans undone was a greater struggle than she anticipated. He practically dove for her lips and began kissing her senseless again with passionate abandon as she vainly tried to get her still slightly numb hands to work properly. The back of her hand caressed the impressive length of his straining shaft through the unforgiving confines of his jeans as he instinctively crushed their bodies together. She wasn’t entirely sure if he swallowed her moan or she swallowed his as she tentatively squeezed the denim-clad outline of his cock before trying once again to open the button fly of his jeans one-handed.

 

Betty found herself nipping at his lips when Jughead let out an affectionate-sounding laugh at her multiple failed attempts to get him undressed. With a quiet “Here, let me,” he backed just far enough away from her to snake his hands between them and deftly pop up the button on his jeans. As she eagerly reached out to draw down his zipper, he clicked his tongue at her in a gentle reproach. Staring at him with the smallest of pouts beginning to form on her beestung lips, she soon felt a little sheepish about her mild bout of petulance when she saw him skillfully reach inside an interior pocket of his leather jacket and pull out a small gold foil packet. Jughead gave her a cheeky grin for a split second before saying, “I never ride without a helmet.”

 

She rolled her eyes playfully at his cheesy double entendre before adroitly plucking the packet from his fingers. Bracing the hand with the condom wrapper against his narrow hip, she used her unoccupied hand to finally unzip his jeans. For a brief moment, they were nothing but a tangle of eager limbs as he reached to pull down his jeans and boxer briefs at the same time that she moved her hands to open up the condom packet. They locked eyes for a second and she let out an easy, tinkling laugh as a goofy smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

 

When his eager cock finally sprang free, Jughead let out an appreciative sigh of relief that tickled her face, his happiness over no longer being stuffed inside his jeans as tangible as the bookcare he was crowding her against. Her fingers were remarkably nimble as she made quick work of getting the condom rolled over his fairly intimidating cock, secretly doubting that he’d be able to fit more than his head inside her pussy.

 

                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Right as he was getting ready to line up his cock with the entrance to her pussy, Jughead caught the briefest flicker of apprehension skitter across Betty’s face. As much as he wanted to pretend he hadn’t seen it, he knew he’d never forgive himself if he forged ahead with thrusting inside her only to find out later than she’d changed her mind. Mustering all of the willpower he possessed, he leaned his head back down against hers and whispered softly, “It’s ok if you changed your mind about doing this.” She whipped her head up so quickly in response to his words that he barely had a chance to move his face to avoid breaking his nose against her skull. Her lust-darkened green eyes held his hopeful gaze for a brief second that seemed to deceptively stretch into infinity before she replied in a voice dripping with equal parts need and desire, “Just go slow. It’s been a while.”

Kissing her deeply, his tongue invaded her mouth as he cautiously probed the slick entrance to her cunt with his cock. The tip of his cock slid inside her easily, her pussy grasping at him just as eagerly as it had gripped his fingers. Reluctantly pulling his mouth away from hers, his voice had a lust-roughened edge to it as he instructed her, “Grip the shelving, baby.” Jughead grinning triumphantly as Betty eagerly went to comply with his directive--one arm reaching delicately above her head, the other stretched out gripping the shelf directly in line with her shoulder blade.

 

When he was satisfied that she had sufficiently anchored herself to the book shelves, he smoothly hitched both of her legs up until her scraped up leg was hoisted around his hip and  her uninjured leg was being pushed against her chest. Betty let out a small hiss of air that danced over his eyelashes as the new position immediately caused another two inches of his shaft to push inside her tight chanal. In an effort to respect Betty’s wishes to go slow enough to allow her body time to adjust to him, he tried to distract himself from his primal urge to just rut wildly against her by kneading her supple thighs and her tight ass with his skillful hands. About a minute later, Jughead thought his eyes were going to cross as he felt the vibrant, sexy blonde in his arms begin to impale herself even further on his aching cock as she experimentally rocked her hips against him, taking him deeper with each stroke.

 

By the time Jughead’s cock was completely sheathed inside Betty’s impossibly tight cunt, he was amazed that he hadn’t already cum. None of the handful of women Jug had slept with before were anywhere remotely as tight as the temptress currently in his arms. He closed his eyes and silently started running through all the inventory they were running low on at the garage in a concentrated effort not to embarrass himself. His efforts were almost for naught though when he heard Betty’s crystalline voice utter in reverent awe, “Mmmmm...Jug, I can’t believe how full you’re making me. Your cock feels _amazing_ inside me right now.”

 

Releasing a feral growl, Jughead dropped his head to the crook of Betty’s neck and began pounding into her, his hips slamming relentlessly against the cradle of her legs.

 

                                    ********************************************

 

Her soft mewling whimpers quickly morphed into moans of unadulterated desire as his engorged shaft rammed into her over and over again, his pelvic bone grinding against her clit on every other down stroke. She gripped the shelving until she felt her knuckles turn white from the strain. Although she could already envision the terrifying map of bruises that were going to mar her skin later from her back slamming repeatedly into the unforgiving wood behind her, she couldn’t find it within herself to care at the moment as she continued to fly high on the endorphin rush the man inside her pussy was generating within her.

 

It wasn’t long though before Jughead’s glancing blows against her aroused bundle of nerves weren’t generating enough friction for her nor was his deliciously thick cock, having successfully managed to relax the tension in her pussy. In a choked sob, Betty pleaded, “Jug. Jug, _please_ \--I _need_ you to touch my clit. _I need you to make me cum for you, squeeze your cock good and tight with my greedy cunt_.” His reaction to the lurid filth spewing from her mouth was nearly instantaneous. With an amount of agility that surprised her, Jughead managed to resituate the leg pressing against her chest so that it was now dangling over his shoulder, freeing up his hand to slither between them and begin vigorously working her clit.

 

Betty keened out a high-pitched wail as she felt Jughead’s adept fingers driving her swiftly toward another orgasm, which he cut off with a punishingly demanding kiss. Their teeth periodically clicked against each other as their mouths battled for dominance, their tongues twisting and probing in counter-time to the ancient rhythm of their hips and frantic ministrations of his hand. Suddenly, Jughead bit Betty’s lower lip, worrying it with his teeth. A moment later, Betty let out a squeaky sigh of contentment as her body started spontaneously convulsing again. The tension in her arms from gripping the shelving for so long began rapidly bleeding out of her as her elbows began to sag limply. Her fingers had just begun to slip free of the wooden shelves when Jughead let out a deep groan and his hips stuttered against her pelvis for several elongated seconds. He leaned heavily against her as he waited for his soul to reconnect with his body, his numb arms listlessly dropping Betty’s sorely abused legs back to the floor at last.

 

They stayed in their little cocoon for several minutes--each of them processing what happened--Jughead gallantly shielding Betty from any potentially prying eyes while his own pants and underwear remained pushed halfway down his thighs. Eventually, Jughead pulled away from her with a sheepish look as his softened cock slipped out of her pussy. Grabbing the base of the condom and holding it against himself, he asked “Um, is there a good place to, you know, take care of this?” Betty smiled softly at his sudden bashfulness after the merciless fucking they’d just finished. Unconsciously matching his tone, she answered just as quietly, “Uh, yeah. There’re bathrooms over by the elevator bank just to the left before you enter The Vega Institute wing. With a perfunctory head nod, he removed the used condom and carefully knotted it up before pulling up his pants and underwear one-handed.

 

They were both still so blissed out from their orgasms and distracted by their efforts to rearrange their clothing, neither of them noticed the hurried shuffling down the aisle on the other side of theirs.

 

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Jellybean was sure she was going to go blind if she didn’t die of shock first. Her brother, the perpetual thorn in her ass and all-around general stick in the mud, had fucked the most clean-cut senior who worked the circulation desk at the library right in the middle of the stacks.

 

She couldn’t believe it when her religiously punctual brother hadn’t been waiting for her at 4 with her textbook; she’d even given him a five minute grace period. By 4:06 though, she couldn’t put off meeting up with her study group any longer and went to go find their designated study table on the 3rd floor.

 

It wasn’t until she took her phone off Do Not Disturb at 5:40 when the group had finally wrapped up that all of his missed text messages began pouring in. Initially, JB had been confused as to why he’d said he was waiting for her on the _fourth_ floor, when she was nearly positive she’d told him her study group met on the _third_ floor. However, as she scrolled up to the top of their chat, she realized her mistake. She and Fangs had been walking across campus together at the time, and she’d only been half paying attention as she’d tapped out her message her to brother. When she realized that she’d fat-fingered “4th” in place of “3rd,” JB had set off for the stairs, hoping against hoping that Jughead was still upstairs looking for her and hadn’t just immediately returned to Riverdale when he hadn’t found her.

 

As she’d reached the 4th floor lobby, she’d heard muffled noises that sounded suspiciously like sex coming from what appeared to be the Classical Studies wing. Jellybean was just about ready to go back downstairs and text a profuse apology to her older brother for the mix up when her ears registered a distinctly female voice say, “Jug, I can’t believe how full you’re making me.”

 

Immediately the young Jones woman’s mind thought disbelievingly, ‘ _There’s no way…_ ’ Even though she knew it was probably a bad idea, JB found herself going to investigate. She’d carefully prowled the aisles until she’d finally caught a flash of a _very_ familiar leather jacket between the shelves. Her mind suddenly took leave of her body as she found herself frozen in place by the sheer absurdity of the situation. It wasn’t until several minutes later once she realized Jughead was going to have to pass directly by her to get to the bathrooms that she finally mustered the strength to hide.

 

As she lurked, hidden behind an end cap on the far side away from where she’d seen her brother, she whipped out her phone and quickly opened up her text messages. She scrolled down to Sweet Pea’s name, opened their ongoing chat, and started typing out, “OMG, Pea! You’ll never guess what I just caught Jug doing…”

 

                                                                                         **_The End_ **

 


End file.
